Starting Again
by Angel's babe
Summary: What happened after the line "It's a long story." Spoiler alert for the series finale
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own no characters associated with Forever

Summary: My version of what happened surrounding, and after the line: "It's a long story"

Author's note: This series had potential, and I'm annoyed it's over. The story starts in the subway tunnel, and focuses on Jo. More than likely it's a one-shot.

Italics: Flashback

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Title: Starting Again

Jo flattened herself against the wall of subway tunnel as the train went by. "Henry," she called. She heard low-pitched gurgling. The train passed, and she jogged the last few steps prepared to kneel beside her dying partner. She blinked; there wasn't a body. Only two signs remained there had been people down here recently; Henry's antique pocket watch, and photograph. "Voices, a gunshot. Something happened here." She muttered.

She picked up the snapshot. It was a picture of a man, and a boy standing on the street smiling. The man was dressed in an army uniform, his hair parted in 1940's style. He was the spitting image of Henry. She flipped it over to see the names written in pencil; "Henry & Abe Morgan May, 1945."

She made her way to street level and began walking towards the station. Memories of their first case flooded back. She woke up in hospital hooked up to machines. He stood by her bedside, a comforting smile on his face unharmed. She thought she was seeing things; chalked it all up to the drugs, and pain. He'd taken a bullet himself. _"Stay with me," she urged him as she struggled to keep breathing herself. Jo was determined not to lose her partner._

Her pace quickened as she walked. She needed to see Henry, question him over the snapshot and that first case. She walked into the department to find Hanson seated at his desk.

"Would you do the paperwork on this one? I need to follow-up on something." Hanson sighed.

"Coffee for a month," he stated.

"Deal," Jo agreed. She reached into the bottom drawer of her desk pulling out the Henry file before storing her gun and locking it again. She was back through the door before Hanson questioned her further.

This time her heading was Henry's place. She fingered the photo in her pocket; the real evidence. She wouldn't take out the file folder unless she needed it. The store's sign read "closed," despite the late afternoon hour. She rapped on the glass anyway. She saw Henry moving towards her, Abe close behind.

Henry opened the door. She brought out the pocket watch, and photo.

"Have you got any answers for me?" He took the two items from her flashing a grateful smile.

"You need to tell her the truth." Abe urged him.

"It's a long story." Henry opened the door all the way for her to come in. He led her to a den on the second floor private apartment motioning her to sit on a sofa. He paced in front of her not saying anything. He opened a wall cabinet retrieving 2 glasses, and a bottle of whiskey. He poured one setting it front of her. Jo picked it up eyeing the dark liquid. At last he turned to face her, hands behind his back.

He started with the easy stuff: "The snapshot is real. It's me with Abe. The day I got home from the war. Abe is my son."

She used the glass to hide a raised eyebrow and drank: "and the pocket watch?"

"Even older. It belonged to my father who died in the 1700's." Jo spat out her whiskey. She stood staring at the man across from her:

Jo blurted: "That makes you over 200 years old. Henry that isn't possible."

"I assure you detective, it is." Jo recoiled at the use of her job title; a level of formality. He was starting to distance himself from her. She resumed her seat. He sensed a different approach would be needed, and grasped her hand. Jo kept her eyes in front of her.

"My father was a slave trader. He ran the ship Isaac's ancestors came over on… I was on board at the time, and tried to treat one man for malnutrition. I was shot, my body thrown overboard. I regained consciousness in the ocean. Watched the ship sink in the storms."

He undid the top buttons of his shirt, and moved her hand to the scar. Finally she looked at him a mixture of pity and anger in her eyes. She ran her fingers across the scar. "I've died countless times. Every time I've ended up in water." She pulled her hand back shocked at the gesture's intimacy.

"The skinny-dipping?" She asked. She swirled the last of the whisky around in her glass. He nodded. She stood facing him:

"I was thinking about the first case we worked together. You were shot. And somehow you stood at my bedside looking like that never happened. You died then."

Henry nodded. Jo leaned against the mantle refusing to look at him. Henry sat his hands in fists to keep from trying to console her.

"It makes sense," she said. She finished the whisky and placed the glass on the mantle. Jo resumed her seat at the opposite end of the sofa sideways watching Henry. The emotions on his face warred between relief and worry.

A statement of fact: "You've been lying to me since the moment we met. You were my friend… potentially something more, and now I feel like I don't know you. The Henry standing before me is a total stranger."

Hurt slipped past his carefully constructed mask. Jo felt as if she kicked a puppy. "It was selfish of me to keep the truth from you." He took her hand, desperate: "When I've revealed my immortality it hasn't gone well. My first wife had me placed in Bedlam as I tried a demonstration. "

"It existed?"

Henry quirked a smile. Curiosity would always win with her: "Yes. And it was the last place you'd ever want to find yourself."

She smiled back: the first honest answer from him: it gave her hope. "Why don't we start again? You get a second chance, while I get time once a week to ask as many questions as I want about your life. "

"Deal," they shook on it. They started back downstairs, walking comfortably beside each other. Henry dropped a hand to the small of her back.

"Are you sure you'll be okay with this?" He asked. She nodded;

"I just need a little time to adjust." He'd take that as a victory.

"Tomorrow?" He asked a hopeful note creeping into his voice.

"Tomorrow," she repeated. They returned to the front door.

"Good night Henry."

"Good night Jo."

"Thank you for trusting me." Jo said, flashing a smile. His replying smile lit up his eyes. This was the real Henry, and she'd treasure it.

The End


	2. Starting Again: Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own the characters from Forever, and don't expect to. I write this for my own enjoyment

Summary so far… Henry tells Jo his secret

Author's note: **Bold is used to indicate flashbacks**

Starting Over: Chapter 2

Jo Martinez stood before her mirror holding her favourite crewneck blue sweater up to her. "It's Henry. Just Henry," she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. Except that it wasn't. The Henry she was seeing this afternoon was 235 years old, had seen and done thing she might never fully comprehend. She tugged the sweater over her head; it was cozy, fit her like a suit of armor. It was protection from…

"Quit it Jo. You've dealt with Henry daily for the last year. Besides, there isn't anything else he can tell you to top that is there?" She told herself. Her buzzer went, she peeped the eye hole. There he stood handsome as ever, scarf wrapped around his neck brandishing a bouquet of tulips.

She opened the door: "I'll put this in water." He followed her in waiting silently in the doorway. Jo felt his eyes tracing her movements as she filled the vase with water, and arranged the flowers. She knew she was taking longer than necessary. On their way through the hallway Jo grabbed her keys, and jacket and they were out on the sidewalk.

They'd walked a few blocks before she spoke: "Where were you born?"

"London. Mayfair to be precise. My father was one of the city's more prosperous merchants. I was his heir; the only son. He gave me the best tutors in maths, English, history, literature. He was training me to carry on the business. He wanted me to be the cultured son, but I ended up being a little more idealistic, and outspoken than he intended."

Jo smiled. "At last we have something in common. I was described by high-school teachers as 'strong-willed.'

"I can easily see that," he replied, eyes twinkling.

They arrived at a quiet café, and Henry held the door open for her granting him a smile. They chose a secluded table, and he held her chair out for her. They ordered their drinks, and pastries settling into armchairs. Henry looked like he belonged here.

"He became a slave trader." A statement.

"Yes. I found out by accident. He sent me aboard ship as his representative. I was about to start my second year of schooling to become a doctor."

 **Henry knocked twice, and was ordered to enter. Edward Morgan stood behind his desk speaking with his associate. Seeing the visitor was his son he motioned to the other man to leave. Edward sighed, trying to forestall what was coming: "It's a better life for them son."**

" **To have their lives sold as nothing; to be forced to work as a slaves for other men. How would you feel if it were you?" Henry asked**

 **Edward nudged a ledger toward his son, and Henry picked it up scanning the figures: "There are ways to make-up the differences here. We don't have to do it" Henry insisted.**

 **Edward slowly shakes his head: "No Henry. I've checked; done them over, and over again. This is it."**

 **Henry stood for a moment stunned by the turn of events. "May I have permission to go aboard as a doctor? Make sure conditions are suited?"**

" **I had planned on that Henry. It would be as my agent." Edward instructed. Henry nodded, and withdrew.**

The story stopped, and Jo looked at him watching the fear and uncertainty playing on his face. How long had it been since he re-told this story? She folded, and re-folded her napkin wanting to show a sign of confidence. If he was sharing his life's story, she would too. "I have a baby sister; Elaine. Lainey for short. She was hit by a distracted driver while playing in front of our house; she's paralyzed from the waist down. We never caught the guy. It's why I became a cop."

Jo started to make more sense to Henry. Her drive came from a personal place; the need to protect human life. He smiled recalling the lectures she gave about putting himself in danger.

A small nod; he'd finish the story. "I boarded the ship and all seemed in order. The cells were cramped as on all merchant ships. Food wasn't always plentiful leading to starvation, and dehydration."

 **Henry grabbed onto the wall as the ship lurched in the wind. There was a storm coming; he could hear the rain begin pelting the wooden deck. Groans assaulted his ears from the cells. He knew the problem with only a glance at distended bellies. The more he mentioned it, the more it was shrugged off. Sailors shoved him aside and opened the cell in front of him. The man went limp between his captors; no strength or will to respond.**

 **Henry followed the trio on-deck, watching as the guards moved off to the side. Without the support the man dropped to his knees gasping in the humid wind. The captain circled the prisoner picking one arm up to examine it.**

" **It's not any kind of plague affecting these prisoners. It's simple malnutrition, and dehydration. If they had enough food and water…" Henry was cut off as one guards came forward putting his firearm to the slave's temple. The sound of the gunshot echoed.**

" **Let this be a warning to you Henry Morgan." Henry's anger bubbled over as he stood in front of the captain.**

" **My father would've ordered enough supplies for the voyage." The captain looked at Henry, a mocking smile on his face. "He didn't." Henry took an involuntary step backwards. A crowd gathered to watch him as he opened his mouth, and closed it again. A second prisoner was shoved to the forefront; Henry collected enough of his wits to step in front of the trio.**

" **Move aside boy or you'll find yourself with this man's bullet in ye." The Captain said placing his gun above his heart. Henry didn't flinch; his glare daring the other man to pull the trigger.**

 **He did.**

"My life literally flashed before my eyes." Henry started, sub-consciously putting a hand to his chest as if to comfort himself the scar was still there. He closed his eyes lost in the moment. Jo grabbed the other one squeezing it, hoping to ground him in the present.

 **The feeling of warmth spread throughout his body as he clasped his hands on his chest. They came away sticky, and red. His vision narrowed as he fell. The last thing he remembered was the Captain's face. Briefly he wondered what explanation they'd offer his family. The last thing he remembered was the alcoholic smell on the Captain's breath.**

Jo looked around the café. The wait staff were adjusting the mini table-lamps for the evening customers. A couple entered arm-in-arm, and sat down on a corner sofa. They'd talked the whole afternoon.

Henry cleared his throat: "We should go. Work in the morning,"

Jo took her hand back standing up. He held the door for her as they left. "I can't." Henry tried explain his feelings surrounding the first death.

Jo took his hand as they walked noticing how well they fit together. "It's okay. When you're ready you'll tell me about it."

They arrived at her place, standing in front of the steps looking up at the building both reluctant to enter. He turned to face her his brow furrowed worry showing in his eyes. He wanted to get this out; a reward for her eternal patience.

"I woke up in the water inside a body bag. They missed taking the knife from my belt before they threw me in. I was able to cut my way out. My lungs were bursting by the time I hit the surface."

Silence. Jo looked at him, reached up to brush aside an errant curl. Henry closed his eyes savouring the tender gesture.

"Thank you." She told him, heartfelt. His mask slid back into place, and he took her hand again kissing it.

"I'll see you tomorrow." A smile twitched at his lips as he watched her open the door. Jo waved before she shut it signalling him she was alright.


	3. Starting Again: Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Forever.

Summary: What happens after "It's a long story?" in the series finale

Starting Again: Chapter 3:

"Who's Nora?" They were the first words spoken by Jo since before dinner. The pair settled on the sofa in the living room, a spell of contentment washing over them. He sat still as a statue unafraid of her question but unsure of how to put into words what Nora meant to his life.

"Henry?" She prodded. He blinked, a return to awareness.

"Nora was my first wife, and my first widow." A wry smile accompanied the end.

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 **He watched the carriage pull away from their home leaving Nora standing by the door. A couple of moments before he began moving; she seemed smaller than he remembered. The black mourning gown swallowed her figure. Her cheeks were red, and puffy. He wondered if she'd spent much time crying for him.**

 **He climbed the stairs to the porch and raised his hand to knock. The door opened and he caught himself backing down the stairs. He wasn't ready for this yet. He needed to sort through his thoughts, figure out what to tell her.**

" **H-Henry," she stammered. He caught her mid-faint putting an arm around Nora leading her inside. He settled her on a loveseat and poured her a glass of water. He reached for the port himself. She came around as he sipped his drink.**

" **You're alive."**

" **Yes." The glass of water drained, she stood up crossing the floor between them. She put hands to either side of his face.**

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Henry stalled. He could feel her touch as if she were standing in front of him enacting the entire moment again. He closed his eyes momentarily savouring it. In that moment he was young, and there was nothing wrong.

"Desert's ready," Abe stood in the doorway waiting for instructions. He glanced between his father, and Jo.

"I asked him about Nora." Jo said.

"Ah. " He set the tray on the table, and withdrew. "Don't push him," Abe advised. It prompted Henry back to life.

"It looks delicious Abraham." He picked up a dish of cobbler and sat in the chair.

"You're welcome pops." Abe said shutting the door behind him.

"Abe the baker. Who knew?" Jo remarked.

"I'm a man of many talents," Abe interjected from his spot on the way downstairs."

"He always enjoyed helping his mother in the kitchen. And eavesdropping." Henry chuckled. "I remember the time he presented me with a birthday cake. It had more love than proper ingredients shall we say."

"Mhmm… it was a Mother's Day breakfast for me, and Lainey. We thought we had the pancakes perfect. They tasted like sawdust." Jo explained. They laughed together.

"Abe had those enterprises too." The finished desert in a companionable silence. Henry wiped his hands on the linen napkin.

"I owe you the rest of the story."

"We don't have to. " Jo says assuring him. She gathered this one was especially painful in telling.

"I do. The truth from here on." He grasped her hand, and squeezed.

 **Nora gave him a tentative kiss, and he deepened it. She was the first to break for breath and stood an arms-length away.**

" **They told me you were dead. How is the possible?" She asked. An enigmatic smile from him:**

" **It's a miracle." He picked her up, carrying her upstairs to their bedroom. She reached for the ties at his collar, and he pulled it over his head. Her dress pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of it. He gathered her close with one arm around her waist.**

 **Nora's hands explored the bare chest. Her fingers explored the scar. "What happened to you Henry?" He half-smiled, grabbing the fingers kissing them. "Later."**

"We ended up acting the part of young lovers, and spending the better part of the following two days in bed together." Jo raised eyebrows blushing. She cleared her throat her mind full of images of what it would be like to spend that long with a naked Henry.

"And then?" she prompted.

 **Nora sat at her writing table in the parlour considering a letter. She'd received it two weeks before a two line missive.** _ **"It is my sad duty to inform you of your husband's death. Henry Morgan was shot through the chest, his body thrown overboard."**_

" **You're a million miles away," Henry's voice from the doorway returned her to the present.**

" **Mhmm" she replied. A kiss brought her back to her body, and soon the letter fluttered to the floor forgotten.**

" **What happened to you?" Nora asked again later. Before he could distract her she continued: "They told me you were dead. Shot point-blank in the chest, your body thrown over the side. N-Nobody can survive that, and yet you did.**

 **Henry knew he likely should think it through first before saying anything. It sounded completely crazy. "I can't die." He said. Nora snorted, then started laughing at him.**

" **Lazarus returned. You realize it's only a story Henry only a myth." The laughter ceased as she realized he was serious. Henry's glance swept the desk behind her. His eyes lit on the letter opener and he pulled it from its holder.**

" **Henry… Don't. Henry it's a story, a fable. You can't live forever, nobody can." He took a step away from her and she followed backing him into the doorway. He was desperate for her to believe him.**

" **I can. You need to see it happen to believe me. If I stab myself I'll come back. " They'd backed into the front hallway.**

 **Tears were streaming her face. "Henry… don't. Please. I-I believe you. Please don't do this. My love please…" she punctuated her pleas by running at him. The letter opener dropped from his hands he grabbed her.**

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"A few days later the menin white coats came to take me away." Henry tore his gaze from Jo's. He rose from the sofa and began pacing again. He ran his hands through his hair nervous.

"I should've realized what she planned. I should've gotten away. But Nora… I loved her. If anyone understood I thought she would."

Henry exited the den before Jo could reply. She heard his footsteps on the stairs; he was going to the roof.

"Leave him be," Abe met her at the doorway on his way in to gather up desert dishes. She lifted the tray herself, and followed him downstairs.

"You dry, I'll wash." Abe donned the yellow rubber gloves and immersed his hands in hot water scrubbing. Jo took the dishes from the rack drying them with a fresh green striped towel. It gave her something to do while her mind wandered.

"You're holding up remarkably well detective. Being confronted with the impossible isn't easy." Abe said.

She gave him a shaky smile. "No, it's not. But somehow I feel like I'm starting to know him better. The real him I mean…"

"I'm glad. I mean you were the cause of a few arguments between us. I'm not going to be around forever. I thought he should tell you; you're honest, and it's clear you care about him. He always had some lame excuse though."

"I think I understand why." She said.

"Nora isn't the easiest subject for him. You talk about getting to know my dad better; when he talks about her that's him. Open, vulnerable."

Jo was furiously rubbing the last dish. Abe reached for it, and put it in the cabinet. "He's on the roof." Abe gave her a nudge on the shoulder and she left grabbing a jacket on her way. She took her time on the stairs thinking about Abe just said. "Open, and vulnerable" were two words she would never have used to describe Henry Morgan but there it was. And she could see it plain as day; it was as if it physically hurt him to re-tell the story of Nora.

She opened the door as quietly as she could stepping onto the rooftop deck. She stood for a few moments watching him as he stared out on New York. She wondered if he saw the city of 2015, or that of the 1950's. She approached him, and stood in the same pose saying nothing. He took her hand squeezing it.

"I understand. Nora I mean. To have her send you away; the non-acceptance. Betrayal by your true love. I can tell it has influenced your attitudes. You don't tell people because they'll call you a freak. They'll laugh at you. I can't say I blame you for that."

He gave no indication he heard her save for a squeeze of her hand. She continued. "I'm working acceptance. Hearing your stories makes me feel as if at last I'm seeing the real Henry. His shoulders visibly relaxed.

"We met again. It must have been 20 no 30 years later. I was working in a hospital, and happened upon her. Instant recognition between us. I was able to pass her off as an older relative, and gave her the care she needed. She returned a week after I discharged her.

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 **The crowd gathered around the woman. She pulled a gun from her handbag. "You… you survive. You're Henry my god after all this time." Henry picked up an empty instrument tray and quietly approached. He paused:**

" **I don't know you. I've never been married."**

" **No. No you come back, I know you do. You told me so. You had that letter opener in your hand. I stopped you. Nora smiled: But let's.. Let's do it now shall we." She raised the gun the same time he raised the tray. The bullet ricocheted off the wall, and Henry closed the distance between them.**

 **He held her had talking: "I'm sorry madam. I'm not this Henry you speak of." Staff gathered around them helping the woman to lay down.**

" **Give the patient a sedative." A nurse stepped forward with a tourniquet and stuck Nora with it. Henry sat beside her holding her hand in both of his. His lips brushed her knuckles. "I'm sorry my love." He whispered.**

" **Doctor Morgan the papers are ready." He left her side sitting at his desk. Without reading he signed them.**

"I had her committed without a second thought. To this day part of me wonders if it was revenge. I was so hurt by her rejection I wanted to lash out. "

They were both leaning against the brick wall by this time facing each other. Jo closed the distance and reached to both sides of his face.

"It was survival Henry. You couldn't have her out there. It was only a matter of time before someone tried to test out her theory." Jo said. He closed his eyes turning back towards the view.

"The oath says to do no harm." He replied.

"And you feel you did?"

He turned back toward her rubbing his shoulders; "We should go back in." He held the door open his hand going to the small of her back. They re-entered the kitchen, and Henry leaned against the stove while she climbed on the bar stool.

"You feel you did?" She repeated.

"No. Yes. I don't know. I had her committed, and then I left England for a while. It wasn't comfortable for me to be there. My family, her family."

"I understand." Jo replied. He sighed moving around to her stool. She put her hands on his shoulders and he moved closer.

He answered "I think you do." Henry reached up to brush a curl back, and she leaned into it closing her eyes. He lowered his lips to hers lightly brushing them. She deepened it. He was the first to pull away taking her hands.

She laughed: "Our timing might be a little off here." He smiled kissing her hand.

"Maybe. It's been an intense evening."

"Yes. It has." Jo agreed, taking her coat from the coat rack. He walked her to the door.

"Jo. I want this…" Henry gestured between the two of them. "I've ruined your trust. I want to spend some time earning it back before it happens."

Henry stood in the doorway facing her. "You're always the gentleman Morgan." She leaned in kissing him. She pulled away as his arms went around her.

"Good night Detective." He called to her retreating back. She stopped a few paces away and grinned at him: "Good night Henry." Her laughter echoed in his ears, and he smiled as he shut the door.

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Reviews are always welcome.


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